Zel was, for a moment, stunned when he watched a small fly fly up the Kings nose. His eyes went wide for a moment and his head visibly tilted to the side in bewilderment. When did that fly get there!? Poor thing. Probably would fly off cursing the day it flew into a city. Then again, it probably would spend the rest of its day bashing its head against a window.

The Alchemist shook his head and began to shuffle after the King, about ready to give him a piece of his mind on why lashing out with anger isn't the answer and how that completely blew their cover when a voice rang out sick and thick in the crowd. Pausing, Zel counted to three before turning around and looking at the criminal mastermind ( or so Two-Tone called himself sometimes) that really was robbing the people blind right from under the guard's noses. He quirked an eyebrow and leaned heavily upon his walking stick.

Between the twenty or so people trying to look tough, the only one that gave Zel pause was the one with the crossbow and the anchor chain. A) you needed to be damned strong to lift one of those chains in the first place, and B) more often than not, the one with the ranged weapon would be the Magick user. Flaming arrows, anyone? Almost without thinking, Zel already had the poor archer's skill blocked entirely. It had been sloppily done, but then again, it wasn't like he really needed to try. Already, Zel was lazily grinning that smile of his when he was trying not to blow up everything.

A low chuckle, and Zel merrily joined in the taunting of the pig faced egomaniac, " Indeed~ Though they look more like mice to me. Rats are far more clever than coming out into the open like this. Then again... Landers never could get the hang of our ways up here." He settled himself upright again, and awaited the call to move.

Next move of his would to blind at least three of the swordsmen, or fissure the ground. But that would take time. He should get on that, shouldn't he. He took a good look at the cobblestones beneath his feet, shifting his weight as he tested and reached out to the ground below asking if it was in the mood to just split open for a bit. Not yet, though it wouldn't mind suddenly sprouting some slippery moss. Curious, but that wasn't useful to Zel. He'd have to resort to his many bombs and what not littered about his person instead. But the plan was to get behind that bunch and cut off any retreat or reinforcements that may arrive. That would require a nasty little spell that gave him such a headache! Sucking it up, Zel began mentally reciting the ditty he learned from a friendly Magus on how and when to reach out and grab a strand of the elements that allowed for this sort of move. Yes... Right next to that Archer would do fine. A quick bop to the head with his staff and he was in a great spot to cast a couple Magefire lines.

Catching Azreth's gaze, having tuned out most of the boring prattle of formality in this situation, that Zel still didn't understand why it was necessary, he waved a hand that signaled he was ready on the King's mark. In fact, he muttered, ' By your leave. " Appearing distracted, he patted down his pockets as though figuring out where he left something as a sort of distraction to a few leery henchmen watching him. " Now where did I put that.... Hmm... "

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The Duke nodded at the signal. This was his favorite part, the tension right before the storm. He couldn't keep the grin off his face or the savage furry from his heart. He was decently sure that it showed somewhere on his face because a few of Two-tone's croonies were starting to look edgy. As well they might, they were not going to las t very long, most were out of shape, a few looked haggard and malnourished and there was one particularly greasy fellow who looked like he had had something akin to scurvy at some point in his violent life.

Edward sneered at that one. Who didn't like oranges? Ed reached an arm back and fingered the steel ball on the hilt of his giant sword, he usually kept the beast on his back when he knew for sure that there would be a fight. His grin widened and his blood sang. He could feel the irritated tension pouring in ever increasing waves off of two-tone. Soon Azreth would have the dumb bloke so riled up that the man would pop and make a sound, which would mean that the Duke could get to chopping.

Somewhere high above an eagle shrieked, it felt the Duke. Edward felt his mind scream avian furry as well. Somewhere deep deep down he felt the magnificent power of totem animal. He imagined bunched muscles and a flickering tail. His feet began to shift from side to side. The big man hadn't even noticed that he had started to sway in the most primal dance. The phenomenon of drawing strength from the spirit essence of any animal of ones choosing was all but forgotten and the people who could wield that power were all but extinct or new nothing of their ancient abilities. Edward himself wouldn't have known but for Zel pointing out the obvious to him.One of the ladies up on the balcony evidently recognized it though. Only very few knew of the abilities of those who could commune with all the wildlife on the Floating Isle. The strikingly blond woman tittered to her friends and they gasped as well and hung out the window of their chosen perch.

A feral glint traced across the Duke's eyes. Soon.

The Hawk above screamed and dived. Edward rushed foreward and swung the broadsword that had simultaneously appeared in his hand. The great sword cleared off three of the men around Two-Tone and Edward set about finishing the wounded off.

With a whoop, the King pushed off of the balls of his feet into the brisk air as soon as he saw the muscles in the Duke's legs tense. The blonde man tucked his body into a tight roll, somersaulting through the air at an almost unbelievable height. His center of balance told him his feet were pointing down, and so he extended his legs, heeled boots coming down on the thin shoulders of an emaciated man. Azreth lifted his left leg, his corded thigh bunching, and aimed a savage kick at the man's face, shattering his nose.

The toe of his boot covered in blood, the King pushed off with his right leg, touching down just behind the man and spinning smartly on his heel, using the momentum from his turn to drive a sharp elbow between the man's shoulder blades. The unfortunate cronie crumpled to the ground. Before the man had fallen, Azreth was sprinting forward, dodging and ducking under the blows of men far too slow to catch him. The King's stage and acrobatic training had been nothing but thorough, and his prowess and lithe grace in a fight was equal to no other.

Adrenaline coursing through his veins, pulse pounding in his ears, the blonde twisted and turned, leaping and rolling his way through the mass of stinking bodies, treading his way effortlessly towards Two-Tone. Out of the corner of his eye, the King saw a glint of steel, and with a grunt he managed to lunge to the left -- and not a moment too soon. The heavy thunk of an anchor chain meeting cobbled stone reverberated through the ground beside his boot, and Azreth braced himself with his arms, lashing out with his right leg to shatter the kneecap of the attacker. A wail split the air and the King moved on, a feral, wolfish grin on his face.

The King heard a whistle coming from above and to his left, and with a yelp he rolled out of the way of the small incendiary that Zel had lobbed over the heads of the gang. It roared, fire spreading around the landing point in a radius of ten feet, and the King felt a searing wave of heat roll over him.

"Oi! Watch where you throw those things! You singe so much as a thread on this doublet, and I'll have you strung up by your toes!" The King's voice boomed over the cries and clash of the scuffle, a howling laugh following his idle threat to the Alchemist.

Azreth shot forward once more, seeing his target fifteen yards ahead of him. Finally, the King's hand closed about the hilt of his rapier. The blade was a true rapier -- not those silly, bendy things nobles used to play tag with -- and it was made for one purpose: to kill. The man unfolded his bent form to his full height, drawing the blade gracefully in the same movement. Green eyes remained riveted on the form ahead of him; he was close now, and he knew that Zel and the Duke had him covered.

The three of them had gone into frays plenty of times before, and they knew the drill -- as soon as the King was within twenty yards of the target, they were to disengage and focus solely on watching his flanks and back. For once Azreth had the enemy in his sights, they knew that he became so focused to the point of negligence on what was going on around him. Of course, Azreth could handle himself in battle, and if a threat did arise to where someone slipped past Zel of the Duke, he would most likely take them out. But one could never be too careful, and no matter how much he enjoyed acting like it, the King knew that he wasn't invincible.

He raised his unburdened hand over his head, the four rings on his slender fingers catching the light -- the signal to Zel and Ed that he was closing in. Putting on a burst of speed, the King sprinted, body bent at the waist, blade held beside him and pointing away from Two-Tone, ready to close in and engage the enemy.

Not long now.

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The little space jump had gone rather well, minus the splitting headache he now possessed and a little cut on his cheek from where the arrow grazed him in his miscalculation. The archer was on the ground, stunned in a heap and Zel had happily taken out a few extras that had decided to join in the fight. They looked rather perplexed with arrows through their heads, but that was neither here nor there.

" I own that doublette, you pansy! I can burn it right off your back if it pleases me. " He shook his fist at the youth, muttering something about lazy and good for nothing, then adjusted his cloak and looked around for something productive to do--aside from just blasting fireballs at everything that dared move.

With a ring of magefire around the ring, Zel broke the bow over a knee and proceeded to break the arrows as well. He would let the King deal with the ring leader, though he kept quite an eye on it just in case he needed to slow the oafs movements down. It was little things like the ground suddenly becoming sticky under Two-Tone's feet and sudden chills in the air around the man that would keep the King safer.

Eyes moved from Azreth's fight to Edwards and Zel just blinked and tilted his head to the side, letting out a rather impressed whistle. For all the teasing, Edward was quite capable and a pure powerhouse when it came to wrecking the enemy.

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Edward swung and mangled and sliced and skewered. When he took a break to look around he saw he had cleared a neat patch. Now only the stupid ones would go anywhere near him. That was the benefit of long sword swing fighting. Almost no one ever got close enough to get at him. Archers however were a different problem altogether. He had to trust Zel to keep the snivvling coward from turning his broad back into a pin cushion.

He grinned and the men and waggled his eyebrows. "Come now, are you all scared?" A really stupid young looking thug took offense and chareged. Odd, usually the ones that were that eager were the first to fall. No matter the little twerp wouldn't last long in a headlong assault with the little cheese skewer that constituted a sword.

After dispatching the youth Edward noticed that Azreth had finally made his move. Time to flank it was. He cleared a path over to his king and took up his position. Ed winked at Zel across the mass of heaving bloody and sweaty bodies. It was good to get out of the office.

A snarl was plastered on the King's face, turning his jovial features into something much more terrifying. Hardly anyone saw the King in battle -- which he highly encouraged, as he didn't want his people to see him as a cold killer -- and he truly hated when he had to do this. But, in a strange way, the Bloodlust was a fantastic thing. Every muscle in his body sang, every nerve was on fire, his heartbeat was the instrument to this dance macabre, beating out the tattoo of his strikes.

Three steps brought him to Two-Tone, and seemingly from nowhere, two blades appeared in the man's grimy hands. Azreth's ascending rapier was met with the twin blades, and a loud clash of steel-on-steel-on-steel rang through the square. The King was still going at full-speed, and instead of shouldering into Two-Tone -- who was obviously expecting that by his stance -- Azreth simply folded in on himself, sliding along the ground between the man's widely-spread legs.

Azreth bolted upright just behind him, spinning on his heel. The leader's arm was in full-swing as he pivoted to face the King, and Azreth raised his blade to meet the oncoming dagger. The world slowed. Two-tone's left hand was coming in from the top, while his right was coming from the side. And, as skilled as he was, Azreth could not make his sword be in two places at once. With a grunt, the King wrenched his free hand upwards, taking a gash to the top of his forearm instead of to his head, and time sped back up.

The King's ears rang as their blades met, his face flushed with heat as he realized how near to death he had come. The King made a bold move, stepping into Two-Tone's strike. It was a tactic he had been taught at a very young age -- most people, when defending, stepped backwards. But if one stepped forward, one had the advantage. And what an advantage he had.

Two-Tone hesitated, and Azreth ducked to the side, slipping an arm around the man's thin neck as he did so. The King grunted as he took an elbow to the ribs, but he held on firmly, raising his rapier to slam the pommel against Two-Tone's left wrist. A dagger dropped to the ground. The King lifted his rapier over his head, signalling to either Ed or Zel that he needed assistance, and grit his teeth as he held the struggling man.

He managed to trap the man's right arm with his own, taking the man's elbow under his armpit, and Azreth breathed a sigh of relief. Now all he had to do was hold on until Zel or Ed arrived.

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Naturally, Zel had been quite facinated with the blending tactic that was Edwards fighting technique. It was moments like when the boy charged the man that made Zel wince and wish he didn't have to kill folks like this. But with the archer trying to get back up, Zel sighed, snapped the mans' neck with a quick and practiced motion, and found himself now watching Azreth.

And wincing.

How the boy could fight like that at such a young age was terrifying. Zel glanced around him, picked up the shortsword, snarled at the badly distributed weight and horrible craftmenship and made his way over, casually flicking dead bodies from his path. Course, if Edward beat him over, the giant was more than welcome to dispose of Two-tone. Then again Zel was just going to go for a nice stab in the ribs to sever the heart and peirce the lungs and hopefully get the stomach ripped as well.

See...practicality over magic. He would have stopped the man's heart with magic, but his reserves had already been spent on the shadow jump, and the mage fire barrier was taxing what remained before lifeforce had to be borrowed.

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Ed bared his teeth as he cut down those who dared get between himself and his King. Stupid savages. He normally disliked killing in favor of a more jovial mood but there were times when things had to be done and it just so happened that this particular thing had ticked him off. He body checked one oaf and deaked out another, only to chop the fools head of a moment later. Ew blood fountain...all over him. How he hated slippery hilts the sluice was always so hard to get out of the leather wrapping on his sword. Maybe Zel could help with that.

A rapier twirled in the air and Edward roared. "Get the HELL out of my way!" The twat directly in fron of him blanched and scrambled into Ed's preiphery. Hmm perhaps not all were so stupid. He reached out a long leg and tripped the enemy for good measure. Then he sauntered over to Azreth, Zel in perfect timing on the other side. Ed reached around and squeezed the man's wrist until he heard bone crunch. The second dagger fell and Ed kicked both away. Azreth or Zel could handle him now. Ed would not take their victory in this case. Beheading was too quick a death and he might get blood in Azreth's hair. Heaven forbid.

The King breathed a sigh of relief when both men arrived; right on cue. Two-Tone screamed like the furies when Ed crushed his wrist, and the man sagged, sinking to his knees. The King took a step back as Two-Tone hunkered over his injured wrist. "Zel. Hold him." He waited until a tickle in his mind told him the Alchemist had complied.

The captive criminal whimpered pitifully before beginning to threaten the three men standing around him. Azreth simply rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Take three paces backwards, please, gentlemen." Edward and Zel did so. This was the unpleasant part.

"Two-Tone, you are hereby to be executed for the torture, rape, and murder of numerous women. You have broken the Law of the Isle, and as such, will not be given a trial to prove your innocence. We have been given evidence to prove your guilt, had heard eyewitness confessions, and the fields of Science and Alchemy have proved your crimes beyond the shadow of a doubt."

The King clapped his fist to his chest, the blade of his rapier catching the light of the sun. He fully extended his arm so the blade was pointing towards the sky. "I raise my blade to the sky to that the Gods may take notice of this moment and judge you in your life and in your death. Do you have any last words?"

"Fuck you. My boys will find you and end your line, King" The man spat on Azreth's heeled boots.

The King nodded and closed his eyes, steeling himself for what was about to come. With a quick movement, the King swung his arm downwards, and the blade of his ornate rapier slipped easily through the man's neck, slicing through bone and muscle and tendon fluidly. The man's decapitated body fell over, blood sluicing from his neck, and his head rolled several feet before coming to a stop. The King removed a cloth from his pocket and wiped his blade clean, unsurprised to find that his hands were shaking violently.

He hated doing this. Hated it more than anything.

"May the Gods watch over you, Sir, and may you rest. My condolences."

Azreth turned on his heel, ignoring the silence of the people leaning out of their windows. He bowed his head, coming to a stop between Zel and Ed. "The Guards are on their way, Val told me. They'll clean up. Let's go home, please." The King was obviously upset, but he could not give in to his grief until he was alone with Zel and Ed. No matter a person's crimes, Azreth always cried, and he thought himself no less a man for doing so.

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Thankfully it took but a little willpower to keep the man kneeling before the king before that final blow was struck. He couldn't help but wince when the blade hit flesh, nor hide the grimace of watching that head bounce away blinking its last times. And Zel let the body fall where it lay.

Calmly he patted Azreth on the shoulder, fighting his own impulsive urge to vomit up whatever meal he had eaten days ago. The flames did part for them, but they would stay for a few more moments while the guards filtered to the square to preserve the battle they had faught in their own city. The Alchemist said nothing until they were safely back at the castle--safely behind sealed doors-- and he was safely out of that blood stained robe of his that would be burned once he got home.

His concern was to the boy that he sat next to upon that lounge, and a comforting arm rested across the boy's back. " I wish these matters were less often than they are, Azzy. Shall I call for a bath to be drawn for you? "